Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's sizeBut when I start to tell them,They think I'm telling lies.I say,It's in the reach of my armsThe span of my hips,The stride of my step,The curl of my lips.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

I walk into a roomJust as cool as you please,And to a man,The fellows stand orFall down on their knees.Then they swarm around me,A hive of honey bees.I say,It's the fire in my eyes,And the flash of my teeth,The swing in my waist,And the joy in my feet.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

Men themselves have wonderedWhat they see in me.They try so muchBut they can't touchMy inner mystery.When I try to show themThey say they still can't see.I say,It's in the arch of my back,The sun of my smile,The ride of my breasts,The grace of my style.I'm a woman

Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

Now you understandJust why my head's not bowed.I don't shout or jump aboutOr have to talk real loud.When you see me passingIt ought to make you proud.I say,It's in the click of my heels,The bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,The need of my care,'Cause I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Nine days ago, a student in my doula course brought me a beautiful bouquet of white lilies which I put into a vase full of water. I pointed out to the doulas that some of the flowers had "fully dilated" and were displaying their exuberant female genitalia while others were closed up tight or just a fingertip dilated. I asked the students what they thought might happen if I "helped" the closed ones to open a bit by manipulating the delicate petals. They were horrified at the thought, of course, and were completely confident that the flowers would work things out on their own.

The flowers were left to themselves and gave off a lovely aroma to those who came in and out of the office through the week. On the fifth day that they were in my care, they served as a model for a midwifery course on the vulva, vagina and cervix. Still a few of these flowers seemed to be stuck in "failure to progress". They were unyielding and refusing to open.

This morning I went into the office and noticed that some of the lilies had turned brown. These were the early bloomers and, as I picked them off and discarded them, I noticed that every single blossom had fully and perfectly bloomed. The office had been closed for three days. The bouquet of lilies had been alone, dark and unassisted and all had bloomed into full beauty and splendor. They had only received one big drink of water when I originally put them into the vase.

These flowers are such a beautiful metaphor for having faith in the perfection of birth.